Page 39 of Our Little Moments

You’ll have to start over. Everyone will see how far behind everyone you are!

Nothing matters if you aren’t happy.

Who cares if you’re happy!? You have duties to attend to, so fucking do them!

At the end of the day, it’s you and your reflection in the mirror. You don’t need anybody to be proud of you, but you need to be proud of yourself.

My internal debate is cut short by a knock on the door. I get up from the floor and walk to the door, surprised to see Layla on the other side of it. “Hi, Stella.”

I smile up at her. “Hi, Layla.”

She grins.

As I open the door, I notice the mess in my room from looking for my notebook.Ah, crap.“Don’t, uh, pay attention to the mess. I was busy with something.”

Layla laughs loudly, and I can only blink at her. “Stella, this isn’t messy. Wait until you have to share a room with Isa, and then you’ll have the correct definition ofmessy.”

She comes into my room, and I smirk as I notice that inside her jeans’ pockets is a notebook with a pen.We’re a lot more alike than I thought.

She turns around and smirks at me too. “You have a notebook too!”

I giggle. “I was about to say the same thing!”

Layla smirks, her voice taking an ominous tone as she says, “We should work as a team on this.”

“A team? On what? What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I’m stuck with this one chapter. I can’t write it for the life of me. And you clearly need someone to kick your ass and tell you to work towards your dream. So, we can help each other. You can help me on the creative side, and I’ll make sure you make progress on your dream.”

We both grin at each other, full of mischief and excitement.

“You’ve had this idea for a while, haven’t you?”

“Since that day in the library,” Layla confirms. “I needed to find something to offer you so it was a fair trade, and now that I know what you need, you’re stuck in my trap. You can’t say no.”

I laugh. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

I put on music as Layla pulls out her notebook to write her second romance book and I get back into writing the albums I’d forgotten for so long.

…

“Holy crap,” I squeal as I notice the time. “We’ve been writing for five hours!”

“Come on, Stella,” Layla whines. “It’s the first time in months I have some hope and inspiration for my story. Please, keep going with me.”

I freeze. “What did you say?”

“Uh, nothing.”

I should have known there had been something beneath the surface. I scoot closer to her on my bed, gently telling her, “You can tell me whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours. I’ll listen to you, I promise.”

Layla looks at me, conflicted.

I try again. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even your siblings.”

Her eyes sparkle at that.I knew it.

Layla looks at me shyly. “Do you promise?”

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